Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Time And Time Again ❯ Promise ( Chapter 8 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Warning: Lemon!
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.17.2006 | Updated On: 12.17.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 9.3K | Visits: 232 | Status: Completed
Warning: Lemon!
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.17.2006 | Updated On: 12.17.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 9.3K | Visits: 232 | Status: Completed
AU, OOC, violence...supernatural themes, violence...slash, gore
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS!
This is based off Silent Hill, of which I do not own but worship. ^_^ Chapter titles are borrowed from the titles of SH2 and SH3 soundtracks...both of which I RECOMMEND if you’re into that sort of music, and both of which I do not OWN in any way.
WARNING! LEMON
Chapter Eight:
Promise
“So...you’re not a Ghoul?” Virgil asked the nervous young man, who kept eyeing the others in the pool and him. He was little taller than him, thin, his clothes wearing much dirt and blood and gore. He couldn’t even tell the color of the man’s hair.
The man gave a short giggle, then stopped himself quickly with a nervous look. “Nah. I was blending in! I had to do something! I mean, they’ve got it easy! They just turn and go psycho-ass on anything that’s living and talking! I figured I could do that, and they’re definitely not conversation makers so what the hell? I fit right in, and they didn’t suspect it a bit.”
Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “Ghouls slaughtered everything without remorse. Without conscience or feeling...and you fit right in?”
Wide, nervous eyes darted here and there. Virgil guessed that he was Asian, but he didn’t know what type. The man seemed to spaz with every movement, nervously picking at everything from his clothes to his forearms and nose. Virgil felt wary of him–he eased himself back, feeling sick at the smell that emanated from this man. His neck continued to prickle with warning, and he definitely felt that he shouldn’t turn his back to him.
He watched with some uncertainty as the man took a few steps forward. His eyes were wild. Virgil felt his chest tighten with caution as the man continued to give him that barbaric look. He started to feel that it was a bad decision to talk to the man; knowing that he ran freely with Ghouls, did what they did and survived as long as he had within their group had Virgil questioning his own common sense.
He swallowed hard, struggling to keep from revealing his own nervousness. But his voice wavered a bit. “What’s your name, man?”
“I...I really don’t remember,” the young man replied, looking lost as he thought about it. “It’s kinda hard remembering back then. I can’t remember–they called me Shiv in prison, though. Heh heh, I was on death row. For stabbing a dude over his shoes. Man, if only he’d just given them up, I wouldn’t have freaked on him. What’s with the rich people, eh? They so GODDAMNED GREEDY that they don’t even share with the more less unfortunate. Fucking pricks. Kill them. KILL THEM ALL!...er...what’d you ask me again?”
The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitched in a nervous smile. He glanced at the pool and wondered if he’d be doing the whole world a favor by throwing this one in there. He may not be a Ghoul, but he certainly had the mind for it. He looked up quickly and realized that Shiv was standing closer to him than before. Virgil’s hair on the back of his neck rose, and he lifted his hands, power sparkling as he shot him a warning look.
Shiv immediately backed up, dropping what looked to be a sharpened toothbrush from behind his back. Virgil looked down at it, gaping at the homemade weapon when the young man charged him. Virgil yelped as he hit the concrete with strong hands around his neck, the man cackling insanely as he sat on his chest. Panic assailed Virgil as he struggled to pull his hands from his throat, mind racing with fear as the man popped his head on the concrete, tremendous pain causing Virgil to black out momentarily.
As grey edged his vision, Virgil struggled to focus on the man, clawing his arms as fingers tightened around his neck. The man bounced his head off the concrete once more with a feverish snarl, Virgil losing purpose on him as stars bounced across his vision. For a moment, he lost contact with the world that he knew–he saw black, everything a blur of sounds as the fingers around his neck prevented him from breathing in. The bodily instinct to breathe had him clawing in panic–but it was nothing but an image in his mind as his hands lay at his sides.
He heard the cackling of the insane man that continued to choke him, bouncing his head repeatedly off the floor with loud cracks. Everything seemed so far away. It was as if he’d left his body to watch everything from afar.
He heard his name whispered. In his mind’s eye he turned to the pool, where the weakened Ghouls had either sank to the bottom or were floating near the surface. His name was uttered again, and he recognized rising cheer within him as he registered Maria’s voice. The woman appeared between a pair of Ghouls that floated back up, and she smoothly left the pool. Virgil watched her settle behind Shiv, the man suddenly realizing that he wasn’t alone.
He turned to gape at her over his shoulder, the watery form facing him for a few moments before lashing out. Abnormal hands lifted from the pool to wrap around him, and he gave a loud screech of terror before being covered in water. Virgil watched as the hands formed into a shimmering globe, enveloping him quickly. The man struggled within the globe as Maria crouched next to him, one watery cold hand placed upon his forehead.
“Wake up, now,” she murmured.
Just like that, Virgil gasped loudly, lifting half his torso up from the concrete floor. Instantly, his head swarmed with intense pain, throbbing painfully as he lowered himself back down. He held onto his head with both hands, rolling onto his side as pain consumed him. It felt as if his every thought had been scattered and rearranged, leaving him with a jumble of useless information. He felt so sick that he retched, his head throbbing more intensely with the action as his stomach lurched with fanatic action. Blood rushing became too loud to bear, and he groaned as he held himself, oblivious to everything else. Blinking open his eyes moments later, Virgil stared at the gore stained walls, listened to the intense silence of the pool building.
Slowly, his arms shaking, he rose into a sitting position. His head roared with such intensity that he thought he was going to black out. He gripped his head with both hands, grimacing as he sought to steady himself. His face heated uncomfortably, and he felt that dizzying sensation of losing all contact and balance in his world. He swallowed back bile, unsure of how he was going to get himself moving when all he felt was this dizzying pain.
He slowly opened his eyes, the darkness bothering him as he couldn’t seem to get used to it. The events that had just passed came back to him, and he reacted with a slow rising as he glanced around the pool for any signs of Shiv. Reaching up to touch the back of his head, he realized that his dreads had managed to buffer some of the impact of having his head bashed into the concrete, but only a little.
He rose to his feet with shaky action, seeing that the pool was empty–except for one floating form at the deep end of the pool. Virgil shuffled in that direction, raising a hand to emit a flare of power to see. He realized that it was Shiv that floated under the surface. He had thought that the man had been killed when he realized that something was different. He knew that bodies floated at death due to gases, but this floating was unnatural. It was as if he were tethered to one place. He couldn’t see anything connecting him to the pool floor...it was as if there were something invisible holding him in place.
Virgil wondered if the man was truly dead. Faintly, he recalled seeing Maria grab him. Looking across the room, he stared into the darkness, listening for any other noise. As he lifted his hand higher, he caught sight of something small sitting where he normally sat by the kiddie pool. He walked over hastily to see what it was that Maria may have left for him. Crouching, he picked up a piece of paper.
Unfolding it, he realized he was looking at Richie’s juvenile detention record. It had been a long while since he’d seen that chubby face, thick glasses and short hair. The teen looked so differently now. Virgil snickered at the picture, reading over his personal information, then pausing on the handwritten words at the bottom.
“‘Possible suspects: Avery, Alex Johnson. Billings, George. Weston, Carl. Yellow, Max,’” he read quietly, frowning. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
Then he stilled, thinking of one morning when he’d overheard Junior’s rants to co-worker Casey when the pair had thought they were alone: “One of them is the one he was with! Some fuckin’ pig-whore callin’ out to kids and toyin’ with them?! Fuckin’ SICK! If I get a holda him, there’s gonna be balls kicked in, man!”
Virgil remembered seeing this exact sheet being waved around in one fist, and he remembered wondering what it was that sent the counselor on a rant like that. Richie had never mentioned the man’s name; even when he was pressed, he revealed nothing. Which had Junior frustrated as he launched a private investigation into every sex offender in Omaha.
Virgil was bewildered as to why he and Richie’s records were showing up in such unlikely places. He took out his own record, which had dried with blood. Putting them together, he frowned at both pieces of paper. He had no idea what they meant until he saw something at the bottom of each paper. He squinted at the lines just below the watermark in the left hand corner and realized that toner had blotched a particular spot at the exact same spot on each sheet.
Virgil turned the papers around and startled once he realized he was looking at a map. He hadn’t even thought of looking behind them. The map was printed with the same toner blotch in the left bottom corner. The map was that of Dakota, in a ten-mile stretch. There was a mark in various sectors with either a V or R initialed nearby.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, extremely puzzled by this. He folded both papers up and withdrew his phone once more. Finding that Richie had stopped somewhere between Twentieth and Addams, Virgil cast Shiv one last glance and took to the air, leaving the pool building behind.
* - * - * - * - *
He burst through the door of the house easily, giving no regards to the locks that had been keeping the door in place. As soon as he jumped off his disk, a massive flash of light and heat streaked through the darkness, earning him a yelp and a dive to the floor. Mind reeling in panic, Virgil heard the ear-piercing cracking sound the missile of flame made when connecting with one of the house walls. Flame immediately began to catch onto the carpet and drapery as he rose, powers flaring to life as he faced his attacker. Even as he struggled to react, his head pounded and rushed from the sudden movement and bright light–he was determined to show no weaknesses as he forced himself beyond the uncomfortable pain.
“Prepare to eat electricity, sucka!” he hollered as he sent bolts of power from his hands, in the direction the very startled man stood.
“VIRGIL!” Richie shouted from the hall, looking just as startled as Hotstreak did upon the very unexpected arrival of the black teen. He was clutching Backpack tightly to him as he faced his friend with a venomous expression. Virgil had to smirk. He looked as threatening as a messy-haired five-year-old holding tightly onto a teddy bear.“You fucking idiot! What the fuck gives you the Goddamned right to–oh, God, the house is on fire! My tools! My supplies!”
Virgil blinked as he then registered the building heat, the suffocating smoke. Hotstreak, once realizing who the teen was, relaxed just slightly, now registering what he’d done as he watched his work begin to spread throughout the floor. He grimaced as he slung his backpack on, shooting Virgil a venomous glare as Virgil stared at him dumbly. Virgil looked from him to his friend, who was dashing about, gathering as much stuff as he possibly could while Backpack clung to his back. He just now realized that both were very sleep mussed, and that his arrival had been unexpected.
“Your thingy doesn’t work good!” he announced over the roar of flames. He had to wince as he rubbed the back of his head tenderly, pain throbbing insistently. “Why didn’t it warn you I was coming in?”
He began to cough, covering his face with the collar of his shirt as he spotted the back door, Hotstreak looking about in confusion as Richie ran from the kitchen to basement in frantic action. As furniture caught flame, Virgil hurried over to Richie. He snagged his arm and forcefully pulled him toward the door while the blond tried valiantly to gather and hold all the things that he’d found.
As the three exited the house, coming into a safety spot within the open backyard, Richie dropped his things and hit Virgil with a closed fist upside his jaw. Virgil saw spots for a few moments, then reacted with a swing of his own, aiming for Richie’s head. Both teens shoved and pushed at each other, Hotstreak watching with a sort of confused action until Backpack managed to extend its arms and shoved Virgil away.
He dumbly watched the house burn while the two glowered at each other. As flames lit the foggy night, he shook his head, knowing how terrible a beacon that action was. Now every creature in the area would come over to investigate, and they needed distance in a hurry. He tried to shake away the last traces of sleep that had been rudely interrupted.
“Anyway, before you get all shitty on me for locating your whiny ass, hear me out!” he heard Virgil order. He took out the papers of their juvenile records, thrusting them at Richie. Richie took them, opening them to see their personal information. Before Virgil could point it out, he noticed the map on the back and gave him a bewildered look. “People been following us, man. And they know all your little secret locations. I don’t know HOW they got that shit in their possession, so now I’m all huffy they got an agenda against us.”
“Where’d you find these?” Richie asked, grimacing at his mug shot. He shot Hotstreak a flustered look. Virgil told him excitedly, relating what had happened between him and Shiv. He then turned and looked at Hotstreak with a bewildered expression while Richie pondered over what had been said.
He noticed Virgil looking at Hotstreak, flushing slightly as his face shifted into a smirk. “I found him. He needs a good home, and is very low maintenance. I think he’ll come in handy. You should see the tricks he can do. The only thing about him is that he needs a muzzle.”
Virgil sneered at the man, who was giving Richie an annoyed look. “Aw...you were adopted! Big grown man couldn’t handle hisself, and he needed a master? Watch daddy and I’ll take care of you.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Hotstreak exclaimed angrily, appalled at how the teens were treating him.
Before he could give an insult, the mechanical screeches of Wigglers pierced the roaring of the house fire. All of them startled, Richie quickly picking up what he could. They started running for the street, carefully avoiding the creatures that were rapidly approaching the fire. As they darted through the darkness, the teens relying on Backpack for direction, Hotstreak had to ask himself why he was tagging along.
The teens were armed with superhuman powers, which gave them an advantage. While he was still amazed that there were others in the world that had powers as well, that didn’t take too much of his brain. He was more interested in showing them who the hell they were talking to in such snotty tones. Both of them needed their faces arranged properly so that they’d never speak to him like that again.
When they’d taken shelter within an independent grocery store, Hotstreak immediately grabbed Virgil by the back of his jacket collar and shoved him hard into the wall before he could do anything else. Richie whirled around at the smack of sound, Backpack reacting with an eye turning in his direction as Hotstreak then kicked Virgil hard in the side. The teen grunted upon impact, dazed at the second head injury of the night as he curled up on the floor. Richie started to direct Backpack into an attack, confused at why the man was attacking him when Hotstreak grabbed Virgil by his dreads, yanking his head up. The teen’s nose was gushing blood, his expression clearly stunned as he was handled easily. Flame came to life as Hotstreak set his hand near Virgil’s head, the heat making the teen wince, trying to pull away.
Richie retracted Backpack, giving him a wholly confused expression while the redhead caught his breath.
“Seeing as both of you think you can talk to me that way, I’m going to teach BOTH of you a fucking lesson!” Hotstreak snapped fiercely. Virgil was once again slammed into the floor with another loud crack, the teen giving a pained cry. “I’m going to make it clear, here and now, that I don’t WANT this shit to continue. Because each time you both talk shit to me, I’m going to make BOTH of you regret it. You understand, you shit-fag?”
Richie scowled at him, Virgil trying to staunch his blood flow with his fingers. Angrily, he pointed at the teen. “You let him go, right now,” he ordered. “And we’ll speak to you however we want. If you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t be here.”
Hotstreak slammed Virgil’s head into the wall once more and let him go. The teen slumped to the floor with a pained groan, seeing grey at the edge of his vision and nausea hitting him suddenly with all the movement around him. Hotstreak stalked towards him, and Richie began backing up, face registering his uncertainty as Backpack leapt from his back, moving to meet the redhead in the middle. The man flared with much heat and flame, the robot immediately giving itself space as Richie quickly turned to run for cover.
Backpack was registering too much heat, the surface of the hard floor scorching underneath Hotstreak as he continued to stalk after the blond teen. Its protective systems registered that it wouldn’t risk the damage it would have if it tried to disable him, looking for other options. Richie turned and faced him once he realized that he couldn’t go any further. The black teen was registering the trouble, but couldn’t get his mind to function properly. Without focus and concentration, he couldn’t control his powers–it was a risk he didn’t want to take within the small space of the store.
Hotstreak cut off the heat, grabbing Richie by his clothing and jerking him forward to send a fist into his gut. The teen lost his breath, going limp as impact seemed to knock all his insides upward in painful action. Backpack scuttled over, carrying a fire extinguisher within its rebar arms and managed to set it down, taking all the necessary actions to operate the red cannister. Hotstreak noticed this too late, letting out a fierce curse as he was hit with a spray of foam. As years had past the expiration date of the extinguisher, the canister was ineffective with anything more, and quickly died out. Hotstreak looked at his moist clothing with heavy annoyance, coughing at the emission of spray particles that seemed to suck up oxygen around him. Backpack lifted the canister and flung it at him, the heavy object bouncing off his shoulder and knocking him off balance.
Before he could completely fall, he twisted himself quickly so that he latched onto Richie’s legs, the teen trying to crawl away for safety. Backpack scuttled over as Hotstreak hit the floor, pulling the teen along with him. Virgil stumbled to his feet, dazedly moving in their direction as the redhead shifted to hold Richie in front of him, using him as a shield against both of them. Backpack’s single eye blinked red repeatedly, arms extended. Virgil’s bloodied face showed his disgust as Hotstreak wrapped his arms around his friend, effectively clutching onto both wrists against his chest in a fierce hold that prevented much movement.
Standing awkwardly, but more than pleased, Hotstreak grinned over Richie’s head as he kept his tight hold. “Now what, Sparky? You got anything else to say, you fucking shit? You guys can’t do shit to me! You and that little robot, too!”
Virgil gave him an annoyed look, a teenager’s way of expressing disgust with that one look. With an eyeroll, he let his hand drop to his sides. He was dizzy and swayed noticeably, but he loved showing people different. Most tried this tactic before, and Virgil loved shooting them down.
“Virgil...” Richie warned, unable to truly catch his breath as he shot the teen a wary look. “Don’t you dare–!”
Both he and Hotstreak seized in reaction as Virgil shocked them both, grinning messily as the light of his powers lit up the dark store. Backpack raced at him, managing to sweep him right off his feet and earning him impact onto the floor.
All three humans out of commission, silence descended within the store as Backpack hurriedly scuttled over to its owner. Richie couldn’t even manage to think coherently, limbs convulsing as muscles spasmed. He couldn’t even find breath to curse, inwardly vowing to get both males back for their shows of machismo. Minutes passed while all three of them laid in variable stages of pain.
“...now what’s up, sucka? You want more, fat-ass?” Virgil mumbled from the floor, eyes closed against the dizziness of pain and vertigo.
Hotstreak winced, and it felt impossible to move. But he managed to eke out, “Fuck you...my ass ain’t fat.”
Backpack checked over its owner, then shifted when Richie slowly sat up, grimacing with pain. He glared at both of them, carefully pulling his glasses from his face. The wire had burned his skin and ears. He shakily pulled himself to his feet, gritting his teeth with effort. Then, he kicked Hotstreak as hard as he was able, and caught Virgil before he could think to escape. Administering a kick onto him, Richie ignored Hotstreak’s curse and moved to walk away before Virgil wrapped his fingers around his ankle and yanked him back. The two struggled until Virgil managed to knock Richie onto the floor, and that was the end of their efforts in retaliation.
Rolling onto his back, Virgil stared up at the ceiling, struggling to ignore the pounding headache he was experiencing. He had to swallow a few times to stave off his continued nausea. “So...what you think? Something big’s goin’ on, and it’s involving us in more ways than we actually know. Plus...I need your help. I admit it. I don’t know where to start, but I’m thinkin’ these papers are a clue.”
Richie squinted up at the darkness, holding his glasses firmly within one hand. He frowned. He briefly told Virgil what had happened with the man in black, and Virgil expressed his puzzlement. Richie took out the key from his pants pocket, dangling it in front of Virgil’s eyes. Virgil studied the small key once more, frowning. They both lifted their heads to see Hotstreak rise, looking steadily pissed at the entire situation. Both of them tensed, Backpack moving quickly to join its owner as the redhead scowled at them both.
The two teens rose from the floor, looking at him with uncertainty. Then Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “Wait a minute...you’re from that house. With that...guy.”
Richie quickly said, “He’s involved, too, Virgil. I thought it imperative that he...join us.”
“I ain’t joining nobody!” Hotstreak exclaimed, finding his voice a little hoarse. He quickly cleared his throat as Virgil looked at Richie with bewilderment. “The only reason why I’m hanging out with the twat is because of...uh...certain circumstances. I just got mixed up in stuff.”
“He’s a little braindead, but I think the pair of you will get along nice,” Richie added as Hotstreak scowled. “The man in black mentioned that he had a role in whatever it is that we’ve gotten ourselves into. They already know that he’s involved with us...I just don’t know for what.”
“The only reason–!”
“It don’t make sense,” Virgil said over Hotstreak’s protest. “Nobody mentioned him–”
He then trailed off, eyes widening as Richie frowned, ready to say something when the teen exclaimed as he looked at Hotstreak with a new thought. “He has powers! He has to be one of us!”
“...That’s what I thought–!”
“I was born with this shit!” Hotstreak said over Richie’s exasperated start. “All my life I had this going on. But before this all started, I was in a lab–they couldn’t figure out why I had them.”
“Me, too!” Virgil exclaimed, holding a hand over his chest. “I mean, not about the lab part, I kept mine secret–but we were given these powers for a reason, man! And we’ve got a mission–well, I’ve got a mission, and that’s to find people involved with what these weird ghosts have been telling me! You’re one of us! Damn, I’m good...man, how is it I’m so good at this?”
Richie rolled his eyes, looking at Hotstreak. The redhead was still freaked by the way the teen could look at him in such a way, Virgil too busy being proud of his success that he didn’t see the expression. “You’re involved whether you like it, or not. I think you should just get used to it and stop acting that you have any involvement with us. It’s clear, now, where you stand–you’re supposed to be with us. So, why don’t you find your way out of that Amazon of yours, and stop keeping yourself in denial?”
Virgil blinked, then gave Richie a look. “For an egghead, you sure don’t know your geography. The Nile’s in Egypt. Far away from the damn Amazon. You’re such a dork.”
Richie sighed heavily, feeling fed-up with both. He didn’t bother explaining the situation to him, and turned to retrieve Backpack.
Hotstreak angrily flared, Virgil quickly stepping in front of his friend with his own powers flaring within each hand. “I’m. Not. Doing. Anything. With. You!” Hotstreak snarled, ready to do battle once more. “Circumstances are mistaken! Since you’re not listening to me, I’m just going to have to MAKE you listen–!”
“Bring it on, chump!” Virgil taunted, gathering various metal objects throughout the shop and holding them up. Goods fell from shelves as they were lifted, metal protesting as it was pulled from various attached areas. “I’ll just kick your ass AGAIN, and make you into my bitch!”
“I’m NOBODY’S bitch!” Hotstreak howled, throwing several fireballs at him.
Richie quickly pulled himself out of the flight path as Virgil ducked, hurling his gathered weaponry at the man. The blond hurried outside, exhaling heavily as he heard their various shouts and screams, the store being ripped to useless shreds as fire caught onto more flammable objects. He scanned the dark and foggy streets.
Of course Hotstreak was one of the people Virgil was searching for. It had to be the only explanation for his powers–and Virgil had mentioned that he’d been told these people were in denial. He just wondered what they were needed for–what sort of destiny had been set for them. He looked back as something exploded within the store, and watched both run out, Virgil’s clothes singed and hair smoking.
Virgil took to the air, retrieving an abandoned car. Metal and glass exploded as he tossed it in Hotstreak’s direction, the redhead quickly diving out of the way to send a column of flame up at the teen. Virgil taunted him from the air as the column became harder to control and it was obvious Hotstreak was putting effort into his work. Both of them were weakened due to lack of rest and food, but their egos and stubborn determination were going to prove a factor in their need to overpower the other.
Richie hurried to safety across the street, sighing again as he watched them battle it out. It was going to attract creatures for sure–their noises were loudly ringing through Dakota’s emptiness. Above the sound of crashing metal and roaring flame were the cries of various creatures, alerted to movement in their area. He shuffled in place, feeling out his stiff muscles and inwardly cursing Virgil into electrocuting him again.
Backpack gave him a warning, and he felt his feet swept out from underneath him as something exploded in the brick wall behind him. Backpack alerted him of a shooter that was aiming for his head, and he quickly skirted into the alleyway, shouting an alarm to the others. They were too involved in trying to hurt each other that they didn’t hear him–Backpack immediately reported the shooter being stationed down the block, emitting a folding metal shield from its back to place in front of its owner.
Richie quickly picked up a glass bottle and hurled it at Virgil as he swept by. Once Virgil chanced a glance at him, Richie warned him of the shooter and Virgil whirled, searching the darkness for their attacker. Alerted, Hotstreak stilled, then took cover of his own within the doorway of a shop as the grocery store continued to burn. As Virgil flew off, Richie chanced the effort to cross the street, joining Hotstreak in the doorway and working the door open. He pulled the man with him, then shut the door as he continued to hold onto his arm.
“You have to stay with us,” he said as Hotstreak jerked his arm away, both of them hearing Virgil shout threats and taunts from outside. “You’re involved, now. Even if you tried to go your own way and do your own thing, you’re always going to have to deal with the both of us. And let me warn you now, I’m scary when it comes to stalking somebody, and Virgil’s even scarier when it comes to getting what he wants.”
“You know, you’re a lot of big talk,” Hotstreak started to complain, but frowned at him as he realized what he said. “And you probably ARE scary as fuck. You’re always staring at me, and I’m starting to think that I need to charge admission.”
Though Richie blushed at being caught, he grabbed his arm once more, holding onto it with both hands . “I promise to start being nicer to you,” he said quickly, feeling almost overwhelmed with the way he was feeling, being so close to him. His body was reacting to the proximity, his thoughts a daze as he kept an ear out for Virgil. “Please. Just–just until we know what it is we’re doing when we gather these people together. I’ll tell you more when we’re safe, but–!”
“I’m. Not. Staying,” Hotstreak repeated, jerking his arm back, growing frustrated when the teen clung onto him. Now that they were alone and speaking, he kept seeing what he had back at the house. He started to feel that guilt again, creeping guilt that started in-between his shoulder blades and worked its way into his thoughts. “I have no reason–let go, fucker, c’mon!”
“Where are you going to go?” Richie exclaimed, dropping his hands. “You have nothing to do! There’s no other reason for you to have your powers, and haven’t you ever questioned why you had them? To know that there’s a reason for them should give you an idea that we speak the truth! Maybe once we find our reason, you’ll learn, too. You’re destined for something–that encounter with that man should have given you a clue that you’re meant for more!”
“The man was on crack!” Hotstreak exclaimed, shaking his head. “He was all cracked in the head. Now he messed with yours, and I don’t know what’s going on with that other guy–”
“Please,” Richie repeated. “Please...aren’t you even curious? Even just a little? Do you think that you’re just meant to hang around some loser for the rest of your life, following his orders?”
Hotstreak scowled, reluctantly thinking of Harley. Still feeling that sharp ache of betrayal and disgust, but also feeling saddened that his lover had changed on him. He looked away, wondering where Harley was. Then realizing he was showing vulnerability, scowled down at the blond that watched him with that intense expression of his. It still disturbed him that this teen attached himself to older men–but he was curious in the sexual aspect. That made him uncomfortable, thinking of that shower and wanting so badly to know more, as if he’d been starved; but at the same time, he was shamed over his curiosity when it seemed so similar to Harley’s sickness.
It gave him some doubt in that Harley was even sick at all. This world hadn’t any morals–hadn’t any law. It was the survival of the fittest.
It bothered him to think that way, remembering how he’d shouted at Harley for giving into that sick curiosity and for wanting the same from this teen. He felt as if he’d grown detached from himself when he looked back down at the teen–for the first time noticing the amber color of his eyes and realizing how strange they looked with his coloring–when he muttered, “I’ll consider it if you give me some of what you were giving yourself with your shower.”
Richie stilled, then turned a brilliant red that was noticeable even in the darkness of the shop. Even as he reacted with immense mortification, there was no mistaking that shift between them, the way it suddenly grew tense in the air around them. Hotstreak didn’t look away from him, needing to read every nuance and reaction the teen gave, watching his Adam’s Apple bob quickly with a swallow.
He leaned slightly, catching his attention and finding it impossible to stop when he moved in to kiss him. The blond’s lips were soft and dry, trembling slightly at first contact, then firming with action of his own. The soft touch was astonishing, in how it sent jolts of surprising strength through Hotstreak’s own body. He wasn’t expecting that, Richie smashing his lips against his in an eager movement, giving a low sound in his throat at the contact. Arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him lower as Richie kissed him hungrily, needing to feel all of him at that first contact.
Thoughts of what was happening outside the shop were immediately forgotten as mouths opened, tongues searching out the other’s, teeth and taste explored. Hotstreak forgot about his previous disgusts as he found himself needing to taste more, stroking Richie’s eager tongue with his, sucking on it and filling his own mouth with the blond’s flavor. The awkward difference in height was making his neck hurt, leaning down to mash his mouth with Richie’s, feeling the teen’s hands caressing his scalp, his neck.
It was all so new, compared to Harley’s kisses–the man wanted to dominate and take control, and Hotstreak had wanted the same. Their kisses had been forceful and dominating, while kissing Richie was different. He knew the teen was eager to taste and connect with him, but he seemed so much softer in comparison to Harley. He tasted young and fresh, almost inexperienced. It made him want to take and dominate, but also to recede to accept and allow. The teen was holding nothing back, just as lost as he was into the frantic kisses. His fingers were now clenched within his hair, giving him a sharp reminder to reality.
He pulled away, dazed at the unexpected swirl of lust that threatened to cloud all judgement and reason. Richie didn’t give him much time to collect himself, instead using his shoulders to climb onto him, surprising him as he once more latched his mouth with his. Hotstreak opened his mouth to accept his tongue, feeling it snake between his teeth, stroking his tongue with his foreign flavor, mixing their building saliva. He had to hold onto his body, feeling his legs snake strongly around his waist to hold him in place, allowing a better position to continue kissing without any necks straining.
Somewhere, Backpack left Richie to stand on alert near the door. Things were growing heavier as need seemed to consume all thoughts, suppressing common sense. Hotstreak had his hands down Richie’s back pockets, clutching tightly onto his buttocks and pulling him tight against his body, feeling his erection against his stomach. Richie was clutching his hair, keeping his mouth on his as he rubbed his groin against Hotstreak’s body, needing more contact as he sought friction. Hotstreak managed to pull his mouth away, panting lightly as he shifted Richie’s hips against his own, so that he could rub the bulge in his cargo shorts against Richie’s, hearing the blond moan against his neck as he pushed himself into that contact.
It was all smell, hunger and need at this point, neither too coherent with the other world outside their own. Mind buzzing with blinding lust, Hotstreak sought a surface in which the teen could sit, for his arms were tiring with holding him. Faintly realizing the dark shape of a register counter nearby, he moved with shaky legs towards it, the teen clinging to him tightly as he sucked on his neck, biting him gently. With none too gentle action, Hotstreak plopped him down onto the counter, finding it a perfect fit as Richie gave a startled sound at hitting the hard surface. Before he could look to see what it was he was sitting on, Hotstreak was on his mouth again, sucking hard on his tongue as his hands roughly pulled at his jeans.
With shaking, overeager action, Richie allowed this, his hormones working into such a fit over so many possibilities. Fueled to his lust-filled fire was the added sense of danger in their surroundings, that they would have to work fast if something was to occur. His hands were shaking too much as Hotstreak pulled his belt off, practically ripping his jeans open. Richie heard himself breathing hard, anticipating his hands on him as he worked to pull at the redhead’s shorts, fumbling with the button and zipper.
He gave a loud cry as sensation seized him upon Hotstreak grabbing his erection, feeling that abnormal heat and added friction that sent his mind into a dizzying whirl, hips pulling upward in a feeble action to have more contact. He kept losing his concentration on the other’s pants, pulling his hands back to grip the counter as he fought not to shoot too quickly. It almost felt too much as Hotstreak leaned in to kiss him hungrily, giving a small growl as he gripped his uncut dick tightly, shifting foreskin back to expose the head. His thumb brushed over the sensitive skin, and Richie sucked in a deep breath, pulling his head back to concentrate on not losing it then as the redhead shifted to bite in not-so-gentle action on the sides of his neck.
He whimpered, reaching up with weak arms to wrap around Hotstreak’s shoulders, feeling him shift as he allowed him to invade his mouth with his tongue. Breathing in his hurried breath, taking in his saliva, Richie felt him shifting in jerky movements, pulling in close at one point to pull his pants and underwear down his legs. Realizing that the other’s pants were missing, Richie reached with one hand for his dick, finding it as Hotstreak struggled with yanking at his shoes. Only able to pull off one, the redhead growled as he yanked one side of his pants over his socked feet, shifting in close so that their naked thighs touched. Richie pulled away, wanting to look at what he was stroking but the darkness obscured any hope of that. The counter was too far away from the window for him to see, but he explored with his fingers the heavy dick, the curl of pubic hairs. He wanted more skin on his, curling his legs around his waist as they pressed their dicks against each other, both of them groaning as sensation burned their blood.
With hurried movements, Hotstreak shifted Richie to the edge of the counter, feeling the way the teen’s body started to tremble, the way his curled legs started to falter in strength. He read the movements, but was encouraged when Richie spit into his hand and rubbed that onto his dick. Hotstreak moaned at the feel of his slick fingers on his shaft, eager to get things moving as he shifted away. He spit as much as he could onto his hand, using his other to push Richie’s torso back from him, then pulling his left hip up. He felt the teen shift, legs curling higher around his ribcage, hearing the slick sound of him popping a finger into his mouth and slicking that.
Hotstreak felt around in the darkness, finding his hand as Richie removed that from his mouth and shifted under his balls, sticking it into his ass. Hotstreak kept his hand on his, feeling the movements and the natural heat from that area as Richie proceeded to stretch himself as quickly as possible. Hotstreak spit once more into his other hand, hesitating at realizing what he was about to do. The teen seemed to sense this, removing his hand to grip the counter as he offered his body to him, using his other hand and legs to pull Hotstreak against him. At the feel of his crack against his dick, Hotstreak stopped thinking about things and focused on guiding his dick into Richie’s body.
The blond gave a groan, tensing as Hotstreak pushed himself against the tightening hole, reaching an arm around Richie’s hips to pull him up while pushing his hips forward. Richie started to breathe hard, lifting his hips for easier access as Hotstreak continued to push himself into the heat of his body. Hotstreak once again spit into his hand, dribbling as much as he could over the remaining length of his dick as he continued pushing forward, using his arm to practically lift Richie’s hips up so that he gain access.
He felt Richie tense once more, giving a quick suction of breath and stilled. His own breathing was heavy, feeling his dick throb insistently within his body as Richie eked out, “Don’t move! Don’t move I–I’m going to come!”
Hotstreak could smell his sweat, the scent of his privates, and shifted anyway to inhale deeply of these combined smells. Richie cried out, his body clenching tightly around his dick to make him groan, shifting his other hand to press against that small area behind his balls. Richie gave a curiously high noise as his hips lifted, allowing Hotstreak to push the remaining inches of his dick into his body. At the immediate tight clench that wrapped around it, Richie’s squeal from pain and surprise, Hotstreak groaned headily as he shifted closer into the teen.
His dick throbbed heavily as it was held almost painfully within Richie’s body, the teen’s legs shaking so much against him that they eventually slid down his hip. Hotstreak fought to catch his breath, hearing the teen’s own wheeze, feeling his breath hitting his downcast face. Every movement was awkward at this point, as Richie struggled to adjust to the invasion into his body. Every effort was forced, as his mind was overwhelmed with sensation and utter, giddy joy at getting what he was searching for.
Hotstreak straightened, gripping his hips tightly as he started to pull out. The full pressure on Richie’s insides made him cry out once again, trying to pull his legs up so that he could wrap them around the man’s waist for leverage. But every muscle felt weak and useless, and he searched blindly through the darkness to grip the man’s shirt. Once he was sure he had a firm hold of that, his fingers curled over his shoulders, hauling himself awkwardly against his chest, kissing at his throat and chin as he felt Hotstreak’s dick scrape its way back out his hole. He started to think that Hotstreak was going to pull completely out and thrust his hips forward in an effort to recapture his length. He felt that familiar tingle in his balls at the movement, too much pressure in his body. He reached down to grip his length in a blind moment to stop himself from coming, but Hotstreak chose that moment to thrust back into him with a firm movement that had his insides burning with sensation and pain. What had passed as lubrication was now dried, and it was skin scraping against skin, of uncomfortable fullness that seemed to filling to bear.
As he panted heavily, filling his nostrils with the smell of Hotstreak’s body and sweat, he started to grow dizzy. He couldn’t think as he felt himself trying to crawl onto his body for more contact, Hotstreak pausing to push him back down onto the counter. Richie cried out as he started to pull out once more, that uncomfortable pressure causing his balls to tingle. He shifted to apply pressure in that same spot Hotstreak had pressed earlier, but his movement caused too much sensation–he cried out loudly as his semen pumped out between his fingers, as his mind exploded. Once Hotstreak realized he’d come, he gripped Richie’s hips hard between his hands and started pumping feverishly, giving no regard to his comforts. The blond gasped and cried against his shoulder, feeling as if he couldn’t take anymore of the over sensitivity in his ass, the feel of Hotstreak’s heavier body repeatedly banging against his spent dick.
Hotstreak’s fingers tightened around bone and skin, gritting his teeth as he came a minute later, pulling out awkwardly so that he wouldn’t cum inside the teen. Instead, he held his dick to the side, swiveling his hips to shoot his load onto the dirtied floor. After that, both of them fought for breath as coherent thought slowly returned. The lust-filled tinge that had overcrowded their senses was starting to fade, readmitting the reality of the darkness, the dangers that surrounded them.
Groggily, Richie searched for Backpack, feeling so uncomfortably empty and widened that he didn’t trust his legs to support him if he slipped from the counter. In all those moments, he vaguely realized he hadn’t heard anything from his invention. Backpack could have emitted an alarm, and he would have never registered it. His arms were shaking so badly that he shifted tenderly to sit in a slouched position, wincing at the feeling of his asshole burning from the frantic, unlubed movements.
Hotstreak felt his gut knot instantly as he realized what he did. He kept thinking of how disgusted he’d been with Harley–shifting his blurry eyes on the teen sitting on the counter, he realized how much of a hypocrite he’d been. He’d gone blind and deaf to anything else, lost in the sensation of Richie’s body and his noises.
Feeling sore in his calves from pushing, Hotstreak winced as he scraped off the cum from his dick and balls, flinging that in the direction he’d shot in earlier. Then he wiped his hand on the material of the inside of his shorts before pulling that and his underwear on, every movement weak as impact hit him over what had just happened. Richie listened to him move about in the darkness, and grimaced as he slowly lowered himself from the counter, feeling his legs shake dangerously as he continued to hold himself up. With slow, deliberate movements, he struggled to slide his foot through the empty legs of his underwear and jeans, finding the entire process difficult as the immediate need to sleep seemed to overwhelm him.
He managed to pull his clothing up, grimacing at the pained feeling of his ass. It felt as if Hotstreak had split him in two–but his insides clenched in remembrance of how good it was. He just felt a little shame in coming so early–he blamed his teenage hormones for that. But his heart was thumping loudly against his chest, so fervently that he thought the other man could hear it. Dangerously, he was falling for this man and he figured it was all for the sex. That aspect always tended to cloud his mind of his better judgement.
Hotstreak located his shoe, gruffly handing it over. The teen yawned loudly, and Hotstreak’s stomach curled in remembrance of his sex cries. He shivered violently at the feeling of wanting more. He was starting to feel a little numb that he’d actually gotten sex from someone that wasn’t Harley.
He clumsily felt along himself–he was still wearing his backpack. He was still wearing his hooded sweater. He could smell Richie’s scent on him, and at that moment he couldn’t think of washing it off. His hands were sticky with what they’d touched. He wiped them on his shorts, thinking of changing as he heard Richie shuffling away from him. His legs were still shaky as he turned to follow, trying to shake coherency into his brain.
He had to wonder where Virgil was. He realized he didn’t recall ever hearing anymore out of him since he and Richie started kissing. He remembered the shooter, and started to feel some sense of semblance.
“Let’s go out the back,” he ordered in a voice that croaked.
Richie turned to him, struggling to stay awake. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep–he always was a heavy napper after sex. His entire body and mind felt completely drained, incapable of anything more. Thus, while Hotstreak spoke, he had trouble remembering why they were in the shop in the first place. Backpack crawled onto his back, and the weight was startling. Richie almost buckled when Hotstreak grabbed his arm. At that moment, Richie wanted to kiss him so badly that he started to reach for him when something slammed against the outside window.
Both startled, and then Hotstreak shifted his hold from his arm to his wrist, sensing that Richie wasn’t thinking too clearly. He tried not to let it affect his ego. That had been one of his more speedier performances, and wasn’t anything to brag about. He’d just sort of stabbed the teen over and over with his dick. He started to think that next time would be a more ego-stoking performance when another bang on the window caused glass to shatter.
As he pulled Richie through the shop, blindly shoving things out of his path, he started to think that things were changing on him. Sex was only supposed to be sex–nothing else. To set things straight, he said, “You know, any self-respecting guy would have waited at least a week before jumping in the sack with another. Not hours after meeting him.”
Richie grunted something incoherent, Ghoul screams filling the darkness of the shop. Hotstreak located the back door, shoving through that and entering into an alley. The teen was running stiffly behind him, every movement clumsy and awkward. Anyone could tell that he was having trouble moving normally.
He tried not to think anything sexual, feeling a pull in his groin.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS!
This is based off Silent Hill, of which I do not own but worship. ^_^ Chapter titles are borrowed from the titles of SH2 and SH3 soundtracks...both of which I RECOMMEND if you’re into that sort of music, and both of which I do not OWN in any way.
WARNING! LEMON
Chapter Eight:
Promise
“So...you’re not a Ghoul?” Virgil asked the nervous young man, who kept eyeing the others in the pool and him. He was little taller than him, thin, his clothes wearing much dirt and blood and gore. He couldn’t even tell the color of the man’s hair.
The man gave a short giggle, then stopped himself quickly with a nervous look. “Nah. I was blending in! I had to do something! I mean, they’ve got it easy! They just turn and go psycho-ass on anything that’s living and talking! I figured I could do that, and they’re definitely not conversation makers so what the hell? I fit right in, and they didn’t suspect it a bit.”
Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “Ghouls slaughtered everything without remorse. Without conscience or feeling...and you fit right in?”
Wide, nervous eyes darted here and there. Virgil guessed that he was Asian, but he didn’t know what type. The man seemed to spaz with every movement, nervously picking at everything from his clothes to his forearms and nose. Virgil felt wary of him–he eased himself back, feeling sick at the smell that emanated from this man. His neck continued to prickle with warning, and he definitely felt that he shouldn’t turn his back to him.
He watched with some uncertainty as the man took a few steps forward. His eyes were wild. Virgil felt his chest tighten with caution as the man continued to give him that barbaric look. He started to feel that it was a bad decision to talk to the man; knowing that he ran freely with Ghouls, did what they did and survived as long as he had within their group had Virgil questioning his own common sense.
He swallowed hard, struggling to keep from revealing his own nervousness. But his voice wavered a bit. “What’s your name, man?”
“I...I really don’t remember,” the young man replied, looking lost as he thought about it. “It’s kinda hard remembering back then. I can’t remember–they called me Shiv in prison, though. Heh heh, I was on death row. For stabbing a dude over his shoes. Man, if only he’d just given them up, I wouldn’t have freaked on him. What’s with the rich people, eh? They so GODDAMNED GREEDY that they don’t even share with the more less unfortunate. Fucking pricks. Kill them. KILL THEM ALL!...er...what’d you ask me again?”
The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitched in a nervous smile. He glanced at the pool and wondered if he’d be doing the whole world a favor by throwing this one in there. He may not be a Ghoul, but he certainly had the mind for it. He looked up quickly and realized that Shiv was standing closer to him than before. Virgil’s hair on the back of his neck rose, and he lifted his hands, power sparkling as he shot him a warning look.
Shiv immediately backed up, dropping what looked to be a sharpened toothbrush from behind his back. Virgil looked down at it, gaping at the homemade weapon when the young man charged him. Virgil yelped as he hit the concrete with strong hands around his neck, the man cackling insanely as he sat on his chest. Panic assailed Virgil as he struggled to pull his hands from his throat, mind racing with fear as the man popped his head on the concrete, tremendous pain causing Virgil to black out momentarily.
As grey edged his vision, Virgil struggled to focus on the man, clawing his arms as fingers tightened around his neck. The man bounced his head off the concrete once more with a feverish snarl, Virgil losing purpose on him as stars bounced across his vision. For a moment, he lost contact with the world that he knew–he saw black, everything a blur of sounds as the fingers around his neck prevented him from breathing in. The bodily instinct to breathe had him clawing in panic–but it was nothing but an image in his mind as his hands lay at his sides.
He heard the cackling of the insane man that continued to choke him, bouncing his head repeatedly off the floor with loud cracks. Everything seemed so far away. It was as if he’d left his body to watch everything from afar.
He heard his name whispered. In his mind’s eye he turned to the pool, where the weakened Ghouls had either sank to the bottom or were floating near the surface. His name was uttered again, and he recognized rising cheer within him as he registered Maria’s voice. The woman appeared between a pair of Ghouls that floated back up, and she smoothly left the pool. Virgil watched her settle behind Shiv, the man suddenly realizing that he wasn’t alone.
He turned to gape at her over his shoulder, the watery form facing him for a few moments before lashing out. Abnormal hands lifted from the pool to wrap around him, and he gave a loud screech of terror before being covered in water. Virgil watched as the hands formed into a shimmering globe, enveloping him quickly. The man struggled within the globe as Maria crouched next to him, one watery cold hand placed upon his forehead.
“Wake up, now,” she murmured.
Just like that, Virgil gasped loudly, lifting half his torso up from the concrete floor. Instantly, his head swarmed with intense pain, throbbing painfully as he lowered himself back down. He held onto his head with both hands, rolling onto his side as pain consumed him. It felt as if his every thought had been scattered and rearranged, leaving him with a jumble of useless information. He felt so sick that he retched, his head throbbing more intensely with the action as his stomach lurched with fanatic action. Blood rushing became too loud to bear, and he groaned as he held himself, oblivious to everything else. Blinking open his eyes moments later, Virgil stared at the gore stained walls, listened to the intense silence of the pool building.
Slowly, his arms shaking, he rose into a sitting position. His head roared with such intensity that he thought he was going to black out. He gripped his head with both hands, grimacing as he sought to steady himself. His face heated uncomfortably, and he felt that dizzying sensation of losing all contact and balance in his world. He swallowed back bile, unsure of how he was going to get himself moving when all he felt was this dizzying pain.
He slowly opened his eyes, the darkness bothering him as he couldn’t seem to get used to it. The events that had just passed came back to him, and he reacted with a slow rising as he glanced around the pool for any signs of Shiv. Reaching up to touch the back of his head, he realized that his dreads had managed to buffer some of the impact of having his head bashed into the concrete, but only a little.
He rose to his feet with shaky action, seeing that the pool was empty–except for one floating form at the deep end of the pool. Virgil shuffled in that direction, raising a hand to emit a flare of power to see. He realized that it was Shiv that floated under the surface. He had thought that the man had been killed when he realized that something was different. He knew that bodies floated at death due to gases, but this floating was unnatural. It was as if he were tethered to one place. He couldn’t see anything connecting him to the pool floor...it was as if there were something invisible holding him in place.
Virgil wondered if the man was truly dead. Faintly, he recalled seeing Maria grab him. Looking across the room, he stared into the darkness, listening for any other noise. As he lifted his hand higher, he caught sight of something small sitting where he normally sat by the kiddie pool. He walked over hastily to see what it was that Maria may have left for him. Crouching, he picked up a piece of paper.
Unfolding it, he realized he was looking at Richie’s juvenile detention record. It had been a long while since he’d seen that chubby face, thick glasses and short hair. The teen looked so differently now. Virgil snickered at the picture, reading over his personal information, then pausing on the handwritten words at the bottom.
“‘Possible suspects: Avery, Alex Johnson. Billings, George. Weston, Carl. Yellow, Max,’” he read quietly, frowning. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
Then he stilled, thinking of one morning when he’d overheard Junior’s rants to co-worker Casey when the pair had thought they were alone: “One of them is the one he was with! Some fuckin’ pig-whore callin’ out to kids and toyin’ with them?! Fuckin’ SICK! If I get a holda him, there’s gonna be balls kicked in, man!”
Virgil remembered seeing this exact sheet being waved around in one fist, and he remembered wondering what it was that sent the counselor on a rant like that. Richie had never mentioned the man’s name; even when he was pressed, he revealed nothing. Which had Junior frustrated as he launched a private investigation into every sex offender in Omaha.
Virgil was bewildered as to why he and Richie’s records were showing up in such unlikely places. He took out his own record, which had dried with blood. Putting them together, he frowned at both pieces of paper. He had no idea what they meant until he saw something at the bottom of each paper. He squinted at the lines just below the watermark in the left hand corner and realized that toner had blotched a particular spot at the exact same spot on each sheet.
Virgil turned the papers around and startled once he realized he was looking at a map. He hadn’t even thought of looking behind them. The map was printed with the same toner blotch in the left bottom corner. The map was that of Dakota, in a ten-mile stretch. There was a mark in various sectors with either a V or R initialed nearby.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, extremely puzzled by this. He folded both papers up and withdrew his phone once more. Finding that Richie had stopped somewhere between Twentieth and Addams, Virgil cast Shiv one last glance and took to the air, leaving the pool building behind.
* - * - * - * - *
He burst through the door of the house easily, giving no regards to the locks that had been keeping the door in place. As soon as he jumped off his disk, a massive flash of light and heat streaked through the darkness, earning him a yelp and a dive to the floor. Mind reeling in panic, Virgil heard the ear-piercing cracking sound the missile of flame made when connecting with one of the house walls. Flame immediately began to catch onto the carpet and drapery as he rose, powers flaring to life as he faced his attacker. Even as he struggled to react, his head pounded and rushed from the sudden movement and bright light–he was determined to show no weaknesses as he forced himself beyond the uncomfortable pain.
“Prepare to eat electricity, sucka!” he hollered as he sent bolts of power from his hands, in the direction the very startled man stood.
“VIRGIL!” Richie shouted from the hall, looking just as startled as Hotstreak did upon the very unexpected arrival of the black teen. He was clutching Backpack tightly to him as he faced his friend with a venomous expression. Virgil had to smirk. He looked as threatening as a messy-haired five-year-old holding tightly onto a teddy bear.“You fucking idiot! What the fuck gives you the Goddamned right to–oh, God, the house is on fire! My tools! My supplies!”
Virgil blinked as he then registered the building heat, the suffocating smoke. Hotstreak, once realizing who the teen was, relaxed just slightly, now registering what he’d done as he watched his work begin to spread throughout the floor. He grimaced as he slung his backpack on, shooting Virgil a venomous glare as Virgil stared at him dumbly. Virgil looked from him to his friend, who was dashing about, gathering as much stuff as he possibly could while Backpack clung to his back. He just now realized that both were very sleep mussed, and that his arrival had been unexpected.
“Your thingy doesn’t work good!” he announced over the roar of flames. He had to wince as he rubbed the back of his head tenderly, pain throbbing insistently. “Why didn’t it warn you I was coming in?”
He began to cough, covering his face with the collar of his shirt as he spotted the back door, Hotstreak looking about in confusion as Richie ran from the kitchen to basement in frantic action. As furniture caught flame, Virgil hurried over to Richie. He snagged his arm and forcefully pulled him toward the door while the blond tried valiantly to gather and hold all the things that he’d found.
As the three exited the house, coming into a safety spot within the open backyard, Richie dropped his things and hit Virgil with a closed fist upside his jaw. Virgil saw spots for a few moments, then reacted with a swing of his own, aiming for Richie’s head. Both teens shoved and pushed at each other, Hotstreak watching with a sort of confused action until Backpack managed to extend its arms and shoved Virgil away.
He dumbly watched the house burn while the two glowered at each other. As flames lit the foggy night, he shook his head, knowing how terrible a beacon that action was. Now every creature in the area would come over to investigate, and they needed distance in a hurry. He tried to shake away the last traces of sleep that had been rudely interrupted.
“Anyway, before you get all shitty on me for locating your whiny ass, hear me out!” he heard Virgil order. He took out the papers of their juvenile records, thrusting them at Richie. Richie took them, opening them to see their personal information. Before Virgil could point it out, he noticed the map on the back and gave him a bewildered look. “People been following us, man. And they know all your little secret locations. I don’t know HOW they got that shit in their possession, so now I’m all huffy they got an agenda against us.”
“Where’d you find these?” Richie asked, grimacing at his mug shot. He shot Hotstreak a flustered look. Virgil told him excitedly, relating what had happened between him and Shiv. He then turned and looked at Hotstreak with a bewildered expression while Richie pondered over what had been said.
He noticed Virgil looking at Hotstreak, flushing slightly as his face shifted into a smirk. “I found him. He needs a good home, and is very low maintenance. I think he’ll come in handy. You should see the tricks he can do. The only thing about him is that he needs a muzzle.”
Virgil sneered at the man, who was giving Richie an annoyed look. “Aw...you were adopted! Big grown man couldn’t handle hisself, and he needed a master? Watch daddy and I’ll take care of you.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Hotstreak exclaimed angrily, appalled at how the teens were treating him.
Before he could give an insult, the mechanical screeches of Wigglers pierced the roaring of the house fire. All of them startled, Richie quickly picking up what he could. They started running for the street, carefully avoiding the creatures that were rapidly approaching the fire. As they darted through the darkness, the teens relying on Backpack for direction, Hotstreak had to ask himself why he was tagging along.
The teens were armed with superhuman powers, which gave them an advantage. While he was still amazed that there were others in the world that had powers as well, that didn’t take too much of his brain. He was more interested in showing them who the hell they were talking to in such snotty tones. Both of them needed their faces arranged properly so that they’d never speak to him like that again.
When they’d taken shelter within an independent grocery store, Hotstreak immediately grabbed Virgil by the back of his jacket collar and shoved him hard into the wall before he could do anything else. Richie whirled around at the smack of sound, Backpack reacting with an eye turning in his direction as Hotstreak then kicked Virgil hard in the side. The teen grunted upon impact, dazed at the second head injury of the night as he curled up on the floor. Richie started to direct Backpack into an attack, confused at why the man was attacking him when Hotstreak grabbed Virgil by his dreads, yanking his head up. The teen’s nose was gushing blood, his expression clearly stunned as he was handled easily. Flame came to life as Hotstreak set his hand near Virgil’s head, the heat making the teen wince, trying to pull away.
Richie retracted Backpack, giving him a wholly confused expression while the redhead caught his breath.
“Seeing as both of you think you can talk to me that way, I’m going to teach BOTH of you a fucking lesson!” Hotstreak snapped fiercely. Virgil was once again slammed into the floor with another loud crack, the teen giving a pained cry. “I’m going to make it clear, here and now, that I don’t WANT this shit to continue. Because each time you both talk shit to me, I’m going to make BOTH of you regret it. You understand, you shit-fag?”
Richie scowled at him, Virgil trying to staunch his blood flow with his fingers. Angrily, he pointed at the teen. “You let him go, right now,” he ordered. “And we’ll speak to you however we want. If you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t be here.”
Hotstreak slammed Virgil’s head into the wall once more and let him go. The teen slumped to the floor with a pained groan, seeing grey at the edge of his vision and nausea hitting him suddenly with all the movement around him. Hotstreak stalked towards him, and Richie began backing up, face registering his uncertainty as Backpack leapt from his back, moving to meet the redhead in the middle. The man flared with much heat and flame, the robot immediately giving itself space as Richie quickly turned to run for cover.
Backpack was registering too much heat, the surface of the hard floor scorching underneath Hotstreak as he continued to stalk after the blond teen. Its protective systems registered that it wouldn’t risk the damage it would have if it tried to disable him, looking for other options. Richie turned and faced him once he realized that he couldn’t go any further. The black teen was registering the trouble, but couldn’t get his mind to function properly. Without focus and concentration, he couldn’t control his powers–it was a risk he didn’t want to take within the small space of the store.
Hotstreak cut off the heat, grabbing Richie by his clothing and jerking him forward to send a fist into his gut. The teen lost his breath, going limp as impact seemed to knock all his insides upward in painful action. Backpack scuttled over, carrying a fire extinguisher within its rebar arms and managed to set it down, taking all the necessary actions to operate the red cannister. Hotstreak noticed this too late, letting out a fierce curse as he was hit with a spray of foam. As years had past the expiration date of the extinguisher, the canister was ineffective with anything more, and quickly died out. Hotstreak looked at his moist clothing with heavy annoyance, coughing at the emission of spray particles that seemed to suck up oxygen around him. Backpack lifted the canister and flung it at him, the heavy object bouncing off his shoulder and knocking him off balance.
Before he could completely fall, he twisted himself quickly so that he latched onto Richie’s legs, the teen trying to crawl away for safety. Backpack scuttled over as Hotstreak hit the floor, pulling the teen along with him. Virgil stumbled to his feet, dazedly moving in their direction as the redhead shifted to hold Richie in front of him, using him as a shield against both of them. Backpack’s single eye blinked red repeatedly, arms extended. Virgil’s bloodied face showed his disgust as Hotstreak wrapped his arms around his friend, effectively clutching onto both wrists against his chest in a fierce hold that prevented much movement.
Standing awkwardly, but more than pleased, Hotstreak grinned over Richie’s head as he kept his tight hold. “Now what, Sparky? You got anything else to say, you fucking shit? You guys can’t do shit to me! You and that little robot, too!”
Virgil gave him an annoyed look, a teenager’s way of expressing disgust with that one look. With an eyeroll, he let his hand drop to his sides. He was dizzy and swayed noticeably, but he loved showing people different. Most tried this tactic before, and Virgil loved shooting them down.
“Virgil...” Richie warned, unable to truly catch his breath as he shot the teen a wary look. “Don’t you dare–!”
Both he and Hotstreak seized in reaction as Virgil shocked them both, grinning messily as the light of his powers lit up the dark store. Backpack raced at him, managing to sweep him right off his feet and earning him impact onto the floor.
All three humans out of commission, silence descended within the store as Backpack hurriedly scuttled over to its owner. Richie couldn’t even manage to think coherently, limbs convulsing as muscles spasmed. He couldn’t even find breath to curse, inwardly vowing to get both males back for their shows of machismo. Minutes passed while all three of them laid in variable stages of pain.
“...now what’s up, sucka? You want more, fat-ass?” Virgil mumbled from the floor, eyes closed against the dizziness of pain and vertigo.
Hotstreak winced, and it felt impossible to move. But he managed to eke out, “Fuck you...my ass ain’t fat.”
Backpack checked over its owner, then shifted when Richie slowly sat up, grimacing with pain. He glared at both of them, carefully pulling his glasses from his face. The wire had burned his skin and ears. He shakily pulled himself to his feet, gritting his teeth with effort. Then, he kicked Hotstreak as hard as he was able, and caught Virgil before he could think to escape. Administering a kick onto him, Richie ignored Hotstreak’s curse and moved to walk away before Virgil wrapped his fingers around his ankle and yanked him back. The two struggled until Virgil managed to knock Richie onto the floor, and that was the end of their efforts in retaliation.
Rolling onto his back, Virgil stared up at the ceiling, struggling to ignore the pounding headache he was experiencing. He had to swallow a few times to stave off his continued nausea. “So...what you think? Something big’s goin’ on, and it’s involving us in more ways than we actually know. Plus...I need your help. I admit it. I don’t know where to start, but I’m thinkin’ these papers are a clue.”
Richie squinted up at the darkness, holding his glasses firmly within one hand. He frowned. He briefly told Virgil what had happened with the man in black, and Virgil expressed his puzzlement. Richie took out the key from his pants pocket, dangling it in front of Virgil’s eyes. Virgil studied the small key once more, frowning. They both lifted their heads to see Hotstreak rise, looking steadily pissed at the entire situation. Both of them tensed, Backpack moving quickly to join its owner as the redhead scowled at them both.
The two teens rose from the floor, looking at him with uncertainty. Then Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “Wait a minute...you’re from that house. With that...guy.”
Richie quickly said, “He’s involved, too, Virgil. I thought it imperative that he...join us.”
“I ain’t joining nobody!” Hotstreak exclaimed, finding his voice a little hoarse. He quickly cleared his throat as Virgil looked at Richie with bewilderment. “The only reason why I’m hanging out with the twat is because of...uh...certain circumstances. I just got mixed up in stuff.”
“He’s a little braindead, but I think the pair of you will get along nice,” Richie added as Hotstreak scowled. “The man in black mentioned that he had a role in whatever it is that we’ve gotten ourselves into. They already know that he’s involved with us...I just don’t know for what.”
“The only reason–!”
“It don’t make sense,” Virgil said over Hotstreak’s protest. “Nobody mentioned him–”
He then trailed off, eyes widening as Richie frowned, ready to say something when the teen exclaimed as he looked at Hotstreak with a new thought. “He has powers! He has to be one of us!”
“...That’s what I thought–!”
“I was born with this shit!” Hotstreak said over Richie’s exasperated start. “All my life I had this going on. But before this all started, I was in a lab–they couldn’t figure out why I had them.”
“Me, too!” Virgil exclaimed, holding a hand over his chest. “I mean, not about the lab part, I kept mine secret–but we were given these powers for a reason, man! And we’ve got a mission–well, I’ve got a mission, and that’s to find people involved with what these weird ghosts have been telling me! You’re one of us! Damn, I’m good...man, how is it I’m so good at this?”
Richie rolled his eyes, looking at Hotstreak. The redhead was still freaked by the way the teen could look at him in such a way, Virgil too busy being proud of his success that he didn’t see the expression. “You’re involved whether you like it, or not. I think you should just get used to it and stop acting that you have any involvement with us. It’s clear, now, where you stand–you’re supposed to be with us. So, why don’t you find your way out of that Amazon of yours, and stop keeping yourself in denial?”
Virgil blinked, then gave Richie a look. “For an egghead, you sure don’t know your geography. The Nile’s in Egypt. Far away from the damn Amazon. You’re such a dork.”
Richie sighed heavily, feeling fed-up with both. He didn’t bother explaining the situation to him, and turned to retrieve Backpack.
Hotstreak angrily flared, Virgil quickly stepping in front of his friend with his own powers flaring within each hand. “I’m. Not. Doing. Anything. With. You!” Hotstreak snarled, ready to do battle once more. “Circumstances are mistaken! Since you’re not listening to me, I’m just going to have to MAKE you listen–!”
“Bring it on, chump!” Virgil taunted, gathering various metal objects throughout the shop and holding them up. Goods fell from shelves as they were lifted, metal protesting as it was pulled from various attached areas. “I’ll just kick your ass AGAIN, and make you into my bitch!”
“I’m NOBODY’S bitch!” Hotstreak howled, throwing several fireballs at him.
Richie quickly pulled himself out of the flight path as Virgil ducked, hurling his gathered weaponry at the man. The blond hurried outside, exhaling heavily as he heard their various shouts and screams, the store being ripped to useless shreds as fire caught onto more flammable objects. He scanned the dark and foggy streets.
Of course Hotstreak was one of the people Virgil was searching for. It had to be the only explanation for his powers–and Virgil had mentioned that he’d been told these people were in denial. He just wondered what they were needed for–what sort of destiny had been set for them. He looked back as something exploded within the store, and watched both run out, Virgil’s clothes singed and hair smoking.
Virgil took to the air, retrieving an abandoned car. Metal and glass exploded as he tossed it in Hotstreak’s direction, the redhead quickly diving out of the way to send a column of flame up at the teen. Virgil taunted him from the air as the column became harder to control and it was obvious Hotstreak was putting effort into his work. Both of them were weakened due to lack of rest and food, but their egos and stubborn determination were going to prove a factor in their need to overpower the other.
Richie hurried to safety across the street, sighing again as he watched them battle it out. It was going to attract creatures for sure–their noises were loudly ringing through Dakota’s emptiness. Above the sound of crashing metal and roaring flame were the cries of various creatures, alerted to movement in their area. He shuffled in place, feeling out his stiff muscles and inwardly cursing Virgil into electrocuting him again.
Backpack gave him a warning, and he felt his feet swept out from underneath him as something exploded in the brick wall behind him. Backpack alerted him of a shooter that was aiming for his head, and he quickly skirted into the alleyway, shouting an alarm to the others. They were too involved in trying to hurt each other that they didn’t hear him–Backpack immediately reported the shooter being stationed down the block, emitting a folding metal shield from its back to place in front of its owner.
Richie quickly picked up a glass bottle and hurled it at Virgil as he swept by. Once Virgil chanced a glance at him, Richie warned him of the shooter and Virgil whirled, searching the darkness for their attacker. Alerted, Hotstreak stilled, then took cover of his own within the doorway of a shop as the grocery store continued to burn. As Virgil flew off, Richie chanced the effort to cross the street, joining Hotstreak in the doorway and working the door open. He pulled the man with him, then shut the door as he continued to hold onto his arm.
“You have to stay with us,” he said as Hotstreak jerked his arm away, both of them hearing Virgil shout threats and taunts from outside. “You’re involved, now. Even if you tried to go your own way and do your own thing, you’re always going to have to deal with the both of us. And let me warn you now, I’m scary when it comes to stalking somebody, and Virgil’s even scarier when it comes to getting what he wants.”
“You know, you’re a lot of big talk,” Hotstreak started to complain, but frowned at him as he realized what he said. “And you probably ARE scary as fuck. You’re always staring at me, and I’m starting to think that I need to charge admission.”
Though Richie blushed at being caught, he grabbed his arm once more, holding onto it with both hands . “I promise to start being nicer to you,” he said quickly, feeling almost overwhelmed with the way he was feeling, being so close to him. His body was reacting to the proximity, his thoughts a daze as he kept an ear out for Virgil. “Please. Just–just until we know what it is we’re doing when we gather these people together. I’ll tell you more when we’re safe, but–!”
“I’m. Not. Staying,” Hotstreak repeated, jerking his arm back, growing frustrated when the teen clung onto him. Now that they were alone and speaking, he kept seeing what he had back at the house. He started to feel that guilt again, creeping guilt that started in-between his shoulder blades and worked its way into his thoughts. “I have no reason–let go, fucker, c’mon!”
“Where are you going to go?” Richie exclaimed, dropping his hands. “You have nothing to do! There’s no other reason for you to have your powers, and haven’t you ever questioned why you had them? To know that there’s a reason for them should give you an idea that we speak the truth! Maybe once we find our reason, you’ll learn, too. You’re destined for something–that encounter with that man should have given you a clue that you’re meant for more!”
“The man was on crack!” Hotstreak exclaimed, shaking his head. “He was all cracked in the head. Now he messed with yours, and I don’t know what’s going on with that other guy–”
“Please,” Richie repeated. “Please...aren’t you even curious? Even just a little? Do you think that you’re just meant to hang around some loser for the rest of your life, following his orders?”
Hotstreak scowled, reluctantly thinking of Harley. Still feeling that sharp ache of betrayal and disgust, but also feeling saddened that his lover had changed on him. He looked away, wondering where Harley was. Then realizing he was showing vulnerability, scowled down at the blond that watched him with that intense expression of his. It still disturbed him that this teen attached himself to older men–but he was curious in the sexual aspect. That made him uncomfortable, thinking of that shower and wanting so badly to know more, as if he’d been starved; but at the same time, he was shamed over his curiosity when it seemed so similar to Harley’s sickness.
It gave him some doubt in that Harley was even sick at all. This world hadn’t any morals–hadn’t any law. It was the survival of the fittest.
It bothered him to think that way, remembering how he’d shouted at Harley for giving into that sick curiosity and for wanting the same from this teen. He felt as if he’d grown detached from himself when he looked back down at the teen–for the first time noticing the amber color of his eyes and realizing how strange they looked with his coloring–when he muttered, “I’ll consider it if you give me some of what you were giving yourself with your shower.”
Richie stilled, then turned a brilliant red that was noticeable even in the darkness of the shop. Even as he reacted with immense mortification, there was no mistaking that shift between them, the way it suddenly grew tense in the air around them. Hotstreak didn’t look away from him, needing to read every nuance and reaction the teen gave, watching his Adam’s Apple bob quickly with a swallow.
He leaned slightly, catching his attention and finding it impossible to stop when he moved in to kiss him. The blond’s lips were soft and dry, trembling slightly at first contact, then firming with action of his own. The soft touch was astonishing, in how it sent jolts of surprising strength through Hotstreak’s own body. He wasn’t expecting that, Richie smashing his lips against his in an eager movement, giving a low sound in his throat at the contact. Arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him lower as Richie kissed him hungrily, needing to feel all of him at that first contact.
Thoughts of what was happening outside the shop were immediately forgotten as mouths opened, tongues searching out the other’s, teeth and taste explored. Hotstreak forgot about his previous disgusts as he found himself needing to taste more, stroking Richie’s eager tongue with his, sucking on it and filling his own mouth with the blond’s flavor. The awkward difference in height was making his neck hurt, leaning down to mash his mouth with Richie’s, feeling the teen’s hands caressing his scalp, his neck.
It was all so new, compared to Harley’s kisses–the man wanted to dominate and take control, and Hotstreak had wanted the same. Their kisses had been forceful and dominating, while kissing Richie was different. He knew the teen was eager to taste and connect with him, but he seemed so much softer in comparison to Harley. He tasted young and fresh, almost inexperienced. It made him want to take and dominate, but also to recede to accept and allow. The teen was holding nothing back, just as lost as he was into the frantic kisses. His fingers were now clenched within his hair, giving him a sharp reminder to reality.
He pulled away, dazed at the unexpected swirl of lust that threatened to cloud all judgement and reason. Richie didn’t give him much time to collect himself, instead using his shoulders to climb onto him, surprising him as he once more latched his mouth with his. Hotstreak opened his mouth to accept his tongue, feeling it snake between his teeth, stroking his tongue with his foreign flavor, mixing their building saliva. He had to hold onto his body, feeling his legs snake strongly around his waist to hold him in place, allowing a better position to continue kissing without any necks straining.
Somewhere, Backpack left Richie to stand on alert near the door. Things were growing heavier as need seemed to consume all thoughts, suppressing common sense. Hotstreak had his hands down Richie’s back pockets, clutching tightly onto his buttocks and pulling him tight against his body, feeling his erection against his stomach. Richie was clutching his hair, keeping his mouth on his as he rubbed his groin against Hotstreak’s body, needing more contact as he sought friction. Hotstreak managed to pull his mouth away, panting lightly as he shifted Richie’s hips against his own, so that he could rub the bulge in his cargo shorts against Richie’s, hearing the blond moan against his neck as he pushed himself into that contact.
It was all smell, hunger and need at this point, neither too coherent with the other world outside their own. Mind buzzing with blinding lust, Hotstreak sought a surface in which the teen could sit, for his arms were tiring with holding him. Faintly realizing the dark shape of a register counter nearby, he moved with shaky legs towards it, the teen clinging to him tightly as he sucked on his neck, biting him gently. With none too gentle action, Hotstreak plopped him down onto the counter, finding it a perfect fit as Richie gave a startled sound at hitting the hard surface. Before he could look to see what it was he was sitting on, Hotstreak was on his mouth again, sucking hard on his tongue as his hands roughly pulled at his jeans.
With shaking, overeager action, Richie allowed this, his hormones working into such a fit over so many possibilities. Fueled to his lust-filled fire was the added sense of danger in their surroundings, that they would have to work fast if something was to occur. His hands were shaking too much as Hotstreak pulled his belt off, practically ripping his jeans open. Richie heard himself breathing hard, anticipating his hands on him as he worked to pull at the redhead’s shorts, fumbling with the button and zipper.
He gave a loud cry as sensation seized him upon Hotstreak grabbing his erection, feeling that abnormal heat and added friction that sent his mind into a dizzying whirl, hips pulling upward in a feeble action to have more contact. He kept losing his concentration on the other’s pants, pulling his hands back to grip the counter as he fought not to shoot too quickly. It almost felt too much as Hotstreak leaned in to kiss him hungrily, giving a small growl as he gripped his uncut dick tightly, shifting foreskin back to expose the head. His thumb brushed over the sensitive skin, and Richie sucked in a deep breath, pulling his head back to concentrate on not losing it then as the redhead shifted to bite in not-so-gentle action on the sides of his neck.
He whimpered, reaching up with weak arms to wrap around Hotstreak’s shoulders, feeling him shift as he allowed him to invade his mouth with his tongue. Breathing in his hurried breath, taking in his saliva, Richie felt him shifting in jerky movements, pulling in close at one point to pull his pants and underwear down his legs. Realizing that the other’s pants were missing, Richie reached with one hand for his dick, finding it as Hotstreak struggled with yanking at his shoes. Only able to pull off one, the redhead growled as he yanked one side of his pants over his socked feet, shifting in close so that their naked thighs touched. Richie pulled away, wanting to look at what he was stroking but the darkness obscured any hope of that. The counter was too far away from the window for him to see, but he explored with his fingers the heavy dick, the curl of pubic hairs. He wanted more skin on his, curling his legs around his waist as they pressed their dicks against each other, both of them groaning as sensation burned their blood.
With hurried movements, Hotstreak shifted Richie to the edge of the counter, feeling the way the teen’s body started to tremble, the way his curled legs started to falter in strength. He read the movements, but was encouraged when Richie spit into his hand and rubbed that onto his dick. Hotstreak moaned at the feel of his slick fingers on his shaft, eager to get things moving as he shifted away. He spit as much as he could onto his hand, using his other to push Richie’s torso back from him, then pulling his left hip up. He felt the teen shift, legs curling higher around his ribcage, hearing the slick sound of him popping a finger into his mouth and slicking that.
Hotstreak felt around in the darkness, finding his hand as Richie removed that from his mouth and shifted under his balls, sticking it into his ass. Hotstreak kept his hand on his, feeling the movements and the natural heat from that area as Richie proceeded to stretch himself as quickly as possible. Hotstreak spit once more into his other hand, hesitating at realizing what he was about to do. The teen seemed to sense this, removing his hand to grip the counter as he offered his body to him, using his other hand and legs to pull Hotstreak against him. At the feel of his crack against his dick, Hotstreak stopped thinking about things and focused on guiding his dick into Richie’s body.
The blond gave a groan, tensing as Hotstreak pushed himself against the tightening hole, reaching an arm around Richie’s hips to pull him up while pushing his hips forward. Richie started to breathe hard, lifting his hips for easier access as Hotstreak continued to push himself into the heat of his body. Hotstreak once again spit into his hand, dribbling as much as he could over the remaining length of his dick as he continued pushing forward, using his arm to practically lift Richie’s hips up so that he gain access.
He felt Richie tense once more, giving a quick suction of breath and stilled. His own breathing was heavy, feeling his dick throb insistently within his body as Richie eked out, “Don’t move! Don’t move I–I’m going to come!”
Hotstreak could smell his sweat, the scent of his privates, and shifted anyway to inhale deeply of these combined smells. Richie cried out, his body clenching tightly around his dick to make him groan, shifting his other hand to press against that small area behind his balls. Richie gave a curiously high noise as his hips lifted, allowing Hotstreak to push the remaining inches of his dick into his body. At the immediate tight clench that wrapped around it, Richie’s squeal from pain and surprise, Hotstreak groaned headily as he shifted closer into the teen.
His dick throbbed heavily as it was held almost painfully within Richie’s body, the teen’s legs shaking so much against him that they eventually slid down his hip. Hotstreak fought to catch his breath, hearing the teen’s own wheeze, feeling his breath hitting his downcast face. Every movement was awkward at this point, as Richie struggled to adjust to the invasion into his body. Every effort was forced, as his mind was overwhelmed with sensation and utter, giddy joy at getting what he was searching for.
Hotstreak straightened, gripping his hips tightly as he started to pull out. The full pressure on Richie’s insides made him cry out once again, trying to pull his legs up so that he could wrap them around the man’s waist for leverage. But every muscle felt weak and useless, and he searched blindly through the darkness to grip the man’s shirt. Once he was sure he had a firm hold of that, his fingers curled over his shoulders, hauling himself awkwardly against his chest, kissing at his throat and chin as he felt Hotstreak’s dick scrape its way back out his hole. He started to think that Hotstreak was going to pull completely out and thrust his hips forward in an effort to recapture his length. He felt that familiar tingle in his balls at the movement, too much pressure in his body. He reached down to grip his length in a blind moment to stop himself from coming, but Hotstreak chose that moment to thrust back into him with a firm movement that had his insides burning with sensation and pain. What had passed as lubrication was now dried, and it was skin scraping against skin, of uncomfortable fullness that seemed to filling to bear.
As he panted heavily, filling his nostrils with the smell of Hotstreak’s body and sweat, he started to grow dizzy. He couldn’t think as he felt himself trying to crawl onto his body for more contact, Hotstreak pausing to push him back down onto the counter. Richie cried out as he started to pull out once more, that uncomfortable pressure causing his balls to tingle. He shifted to apply pressure in that same spot Hotstreak had pressed earlier, but his movement caused too much sensation–he cried out loudly as his semen pumped out between his fingers, as his mind exploded. Once Hotstreak realized he’d come, he gripped Richie’s hips hard between his hands and started pumping feverishly, giving no regard to his comforts. The blond gasped and cried against his shoulder, feeling as if he couldn’t take anymore of the over sensitivity in his ass, the feel of Hotstreak’s heavier body repeatedly banging against his spent dick.
Hotstreak’s fingers tightened around bone and skin, gritting his teeth as he came a minute later, pulling out awkwardly so that he wouldn’t cum inside the teen. Instead, he held his dick to the side, swiveling his hips to shoot his load onto the dirtied floor. After that, both of them fought for breath as coherent thought slowly returned. The lust-filled tinge that had overcrowded their senses was starting to fade, readmitting the reality of the darkness, the dangers that surrounded them.
Groggily, Richie searched for Backpack, feeling so uncomfortably empty and widened that he didn’t trust his legs to support him if he slipped from the counter. In all those moments, he vaguely realized he hadn’t heard anything from his invention. Backpack could have emitted an alarm, and he would have never registered it. His arms were shaking so badly that he shifted tenderly to sit in a slouched position, wincing at the feeling of his asshole burning from the frantic, unlubed movements.
Hotstreak felt his gut knot instantly as he realized what he did. He kept thinking of how disgusted he’d been with Harley–shifting his blurry eyes on the teen sitting on the counter, he realized how much of a hypocrite he’d been. He’d gone blind and deaf to anything else, lost in the sensation of Richie’s body and his noises.
Feeling sore in his calves from pushing, Hotstreak winced as he scraped off the cum from his dick and balls, flinging that in the direction he’d shot in earlier. Then he wiped his hand on the material of the inside of his shorts before pulling that and his underwear on, every movement weak as impact hit him over what had just happened. Richie listened to him move about in the darkness, and grimaced as he slowly lowered himself from the counter, feeling his legs shake dangerously as he continued to hold himself up. With slow, deliberate movements, he struggled to slide his foot through the empty legs of his underwear and jeans, finding the entire process difficult as the immediate need to sleep seemed to overwhelm him.
He managed to pull his clothing up, grimacing at the pained feeling of his ass. It felt as if Hotstreak had split him in two–but his insides clenched in remembrance of how good it was. He just felt a little shame in coming so early–he blamed his teenage hormones for that. But his heart was thumping loudly against his chest, so fervently that he thought the other man could hear it. Dangerously, he was falling for this man and he figured it was all for the sex. That aspect always tended to cloud his mind of his better judgement.
Hotstreak located his shoe, gruffly handing it over. The teen yawned loudly, and Hotstreak’s stomach curled in remembrance of his sex cries. He shivered violently at the feeling of wanting more. He was starting to feel a little numb that he’d actually gotten sex from someone that wasn’t Harley.
He clumsily felt along himself–he was still wearing his backpack. He was still wearing his hooded sweater. He could smell Richie’s scent on him, and at that moment he couldn’t think of washing it off. His hands were sticky with what they’d touched. He wiped them on his shorts, thinking of changing as he heard Richie shuffling away from him. His legs were still shaky as he turned to follow, trying to shake coherency into his brain.
He had to wonder where Virgil was. He realized he didn’t recall ever hearing anymore out of him since he and Richie started kissing. He remembered the shooter, and started to feel some sense of semblance.
“Let’s go out the back,” he ordered in a voice that croaked.
Richie turned to him, struggling to stay awake. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep–he always was a heavy napper after sex. His entire body and mind felt completely drained, incapable of anything more. Thus, while Hotstreak spoke, he had trouble remembering why they were in the shop in the first place. Backpack crawled onto his back, and the weight was startling. Richie almost buckled when Hotstreak grabbed his arm. At that moment, Richie wanted to kiss him so badly that he started to reach for him when something slammed against the outside window.
Both startled, and then Hotstreak shifted his hold from his arm to his wrist, sensing that Richie wasn’t thinking too clearly. He tried not to let it affect his ego. That had been one of his more speedier performances, and wasn’t anything to brag about. He’d just sort of stabbed the teen over and over with his dick. He started to think that next time would be a more ego-stoking performance when another bang on the window caused glass to shatter.
As he pulled Richie through the shop, blindly shoving things out of his path, he started to think that things were changing on him. Sex was only supposed to be sex–nothing else. To set things straight, he said, “You know, any self-respecting guy would have waited at least a week before jumping in the sack with another. Not hours after meeting him.”
Richie grunted something incoherent, Ghoul screams filling the darkness of the shop. Hotstreak located the back door, shoving through that and entering into an alley. The teen was running stiffly behind him, every movement clumsy and awkward. Anyone could tell that he was having trouble moving normally.
He tried not to think anything sexual, feeling a pull in his groin.